


Set My Heart Aflutter

by noticemegenpai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noticemegenpai/pseuds/noticemegenpai
Summary: Hanamaki's dream was to become Aoba Johsai's starting setter. When his dreams are crushed, another of the team's new first-years helps to pick up the pieces. Somewhere along the line, Hanamaki falls for him.





	Set My Heart Aflutter

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about after a lengthy discussion with noblefloweroll about Hanamaki's setting skills - what if he was actually a setter in middle school, but lost the spot in Seijoh to the award-winning Oikawa Tooru?
> 
> Thank you to Noble for being a wonderful beta, too! ♥

“Hanamaki Takahiro. You were the starting setter in middle school, correct?”

Hanamaki nodded enthusiastically, his back straight as he stood proudly in the line-up of Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club’s new first years. It’d been his dream to go to this high school in particular, after seeing the last third years almost dominate in the last Spring High preliminaries – only to be crushed once again by the unstoppable force that was Shiratorizawa.

He had wanted to come to Aoba Johsai, and set for what he was determined would be the next top team in Miyagi, more than anything.

“Oikawa here’s already got that spot locked down, I’m afraid… I reckon you’d make a good spiker, though.”

Hanamaki never realised his dreams could be crushed with just one sentence.

His expression noticeably faltered, but otherwise managed to contain his heartbreak. He nodded again with a forced “yes,” and their coach moved on to the tall, rather scruffy boy next down the line.

Hanamaki was barely listening to what he said, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

 

* * *

 

“Makki, are you coming?”

Hanamaki winced at the nickname Oikawa had given him, but he didn’t have the energy to argue back. Oikawa stood at the gym entrance, his hand on his hip. He and the other first years were all on their way out, ready to grab some ramen before heading home for the night. With the exception of Hanamaki, they’d all become fast friends over their first week together.

Hanamaki shook his head, grabbing another ball from the basket. He was doing an excellent job of not showing just how bitter he really felt.

“No thanks, I’m going to practice some more.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah, by myself.”

He tossed the ball into the air and served it over the net, putting a little too much force into it. It landed squarely out of bounds.

Oikawa sighed and shrugged.

“Okay, then. Your call.”

When he’d finally been left alone, Hanamaki practiced hard, continuing on his serves and throwing balls at the wall to practice his receives. Without a second person, though, it was somewhat difficult for the newly-dubbed spiker to practice his spikes. He didn’t notice another first-year pausing to watch him at the entrance, before leaving with the others.

 

* * *

 

“I think he hates me, Iwa-chan.”

 “Well, that makes sense. It’s probably your obnoxious personality.”

“ _Rude._ More like jealousy,” Oikawa huffed, watching Hanamaki from the other side of the gym. Iwaizumi bonked him on the head with a frown.

“Seriously, don’t let it bother you so much. He’ll probably get over it.”

“I just don’t like it. It’s not about me, it’s about the _team_ – how are we meant to win if he avoids working with me? A spiker barely listening to their setter is a great way to get benched, and I think he’s got talent. It’d be a real waste.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. It’s what you do.”

Hanamaki, who was not unaware of the Kita-Ichi duo staring at him and gossiping in the corner, pressed his lips together in a thin line. He practiced half-heartedly with some of his upperclassmen until the end of the day, when everyone else filed out as usual, leaving him alone again.

Fuelled by pettiness, Hanamaki only allowed himself to put in all of his effort when he was by himself. He promised himself that, come a real match, he’d do his absolute best – but in reality, he knew that without practicing more with his teammates, his performance would be average at most. Part of him wondered if they would just bench him anyway; another part of him almost hoped they would, so he would only have to spike Oikawa’s sets once in a blue moon.

In the silence of the gym, punctuated only by the squeak of his shoes and the _blam_ of the ball hitting the floor, Hanamaki was completely in the zone. This whole space was his, and his alone. He could imagine a different reality. Feeling calm and relaxed, he tossed the ball up into the air for a jump serve.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

A loud squeak echoed off the gym walls, Hanamaki’s shoes skidding against the floor as he botched his landing. It was closely followed by a thunk and a groan as he landed on his behind. He looked up to find the owner of the voice that had distracted him, and saw the first year middle blocker, Matsukawa Issei, looking back at him from the entrance. Matsukawa’s mouth was agape as he processed the scene, then jogged over to Hanamaki, leaning down a little and offering him his hand.

“Sorry, uh…”

“It’s fine,” Hanamaki muttered, ignoring Matsukawa’s hand and standing up by himself.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, walking away to get another ball. “Don’t you guys usually go and get ramen now?”

Matsukawa paused, seemingly caught off-guard by the question, then shrugged.

“’M not hungry. I thought I’d stay back and practice.”

Hanamaki said nothing for a while, giving his teammate a once-over. Matsukawa was attractive, he realised. In an unconventional way, but still.

“Why are you really here?”

“What, uncomfortable because you’re being forced to interact with someone in your own year on your own team?”

Hanamaki furrowed his brow, his grip tightening on the ball in his hands.

“That’s…”

His sentence tapered off, leaving them both standing there in silence.

It was Matsukawa who broke it in the end, taking a few steps back, away from the net.

“Set for me?”

“What?”

“Can you please set for me? I want to practice my spikes.”

For some bizarre reason, Hanamaki felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, and he found it impossible to say no.

 

* * *

 

“So when you hit the ball, you want it to be-”

“I know, I got that. Let me try it again.”

Matsukawa nodded and tossed the ball over to Hanamaki, who watched, jumped, and smacked the ball dead-on with the palm of his hand. The sound of the ball hitting the ground echoed throughout the gym, and Hanamaki couldn’t suppress a smile, clenching his fist and revelling in the way his palm tingled. Matsukawa clapped him on the back, then wiped his own forehead, his unkempt hair sticking to it with sweat.

“That was great. You learn fast, Makki.”

Hanamaki smirked at the nickname – in the few weeks they’d been practicing together in secret, Oikawa’s nicknames had become a sort of in-joke to them. The only problem was that in using them ironically, they’d started using them seriously without realising, too.

“You too. Your sets aren’t completely terrible anymore.”

“Oi!”

They both snorted as Matsukawa elbowed Hanamaki in the side. Despite Hanamaki’s initial reserved attitude, the two of them had quickly become friends, and Hanamaki was glad to not feel so alone anymore – even if that had _technically_ been his own fault in the first place.

Matsukawa was still smiling as he wandered off to start collecting the balls they’d left scattered around the gym. While he enjoyed hanging around with his other teammates, he’d felt a special sort of affinity with Hanamaki from the start. When they hung out together, he always felt that they were on the same wavelength – their play styles synced up well, and their dry, cutting sense of humour was almost identical. It wasn’t just Matsukawa who had helped Hanamaki out of his shell a little – the same could be said of the reverse.

When they’d put away the remaining equipment and cleaned up, they headed to the club room to change.

Hanamaki changed back into his uniform quickly, not bothering with his vest, jacket or tie, shoving them in his bag. If anybody ever mentioned the way his eyes always lingered on Matsukawa’s bare torso as he changed, he would vehemently deny it. Matsukawa didn’t seem to notice, though, and he pulled on his shirt and jacket, leaving his vest and tie in his bag.

“Hey… Want to stop off and get ramen?” he asked, shucking his bag strap up on his shoulder.

The corners of Hanamaki’s mouth pulled up into a grin, butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Hanamaki was shaking, his stomach twisting with nerves.

It had been months now since he’d joined the team, and he’d finally settled in – he’d even become friends with his once-rival Oikawa, and he enjoyed occasionally teasing him along with the other first-years. The group had become as thick as thieves, and with the improvement in their relationships came an improvement in the team as a whole. They’d come agonisingly close to beating Shiratorizawa at the Interhighs, but not close enough – they’d all vowed to beat them once and for all at the next tournament.

Hanamaki had also finally accepted his new position and thrown himself into it head first, working hard with his team, and harder after everyone but he and Matsukawa had left. The two of them were now joined at the hip, and their friendship now extended far beyond the court. They religiously met up in the morning to walk to morning practice together, met up for lunch on the roof with the others, and walked home together, occasionally stopping for ramen on the way. The highpoint of Hanamaki’s day was still their special ‘secret’ practice, though, where until recently, he’d been able to convince himself his pounding heart was just due to adrenaline, and nothing more.

Until recently.

After a couple of weeks of intense thought, it had finally dawned on him that his feelings for Matsukawa were something more than just friendship, and that he actually wanted to do something about it. If his intuition was correct – and he prayed that it was – Matsukawa might even feel the same. That intuition was what led him there now, standing in front of Matsukawa’s locker when he was meant to be in class, gripping a box of handmade chocolates and a letter (lovingly signed “your secret setter”) in his hands. What could he say? He was a romantic at heart.

After hearing voices approaching from down the corridor, Hanamaki stopped deliberating, and shoved the letter and chocolates into the locker before making a run for it.

Five minutes later, he was hiding in a toilet cubicle with his head in his hands, trying not to panic.

 

* * *

 

Evening practice came along far too soon. Hanamaki had been avoiding Matsukawa like the plague all day, still feeling queasy at the thought of his reaction. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so sick with fear.

Of course, it was impossible to avoid him during practice. He still tried, though, opting to join Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s team instead in their three-on-three practice match. Oikawa had raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more.

When the match was over and the equipment away, Hanamaki rushed to leave, his face burning. He was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Makki.”

Hanamaki froze, the deep timbre of Matsukawa’s voice making his cheeks redden even more than they already had. The others walked past them, glancing back but not stopping.

The tension was palpable. Hanamaki turned slowly, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey.”

They stood in silence for a long moment, punctuated by the sound of cicadas chirping in the distance, carried by the cool evening air.

Matsukawa reached out, his fingers delicately touching Hanamaki’s cheek. Hanamaki’s breath caught in his throat.

“I accept your confession.”

With that, he leaned down, closing his eyes and softly brushing his lips against Hanamaki’s. Hanamaki almost forgot to breathe, paralysed with shock.

When Matsukawa pulled back, the other sighed, his eyes opening wide. It took him a moment to regain his composure.

“You… What?”

“Do you need me to kiss you again?” Matsukawa asked with a soft chuckle, his hand falling to Hanamaki’s, grasping it gently. “I like you.”

“Oh,” Hanamaki said, still slightly overwhelmed. “…I like you too.”

Matsukawa snorted, his smile turning into a grin. “Wow. I didn’t get that from the letter or the chocolates at all. Thanks for clarifying.”

“Shut your trap,” Hanamaki said, unable to stifle a laugh. “I’m just… Flustered. You just kissed me and told me you liked me.”

“That I did.”

Hanamaki smiled, squeezing Matsukawa’s hand back.

“Can you do it again?”


End file.
